


Mise en Place

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Legacy of the Tower [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Meddling Old Men, widower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: Mise en PlaceCooking term, literally "everything in place." Refers to the gathering and set up of ingredients and utensils prior to the start of cooking.Edie looked over at Owen. "Oh, my God, you're his barber?”“You didn’t know that?” Dad asked."No. You've talked about your awesome old fashioned barber but I didn't know he worked next to the restaurant.”He shrugged. “Didn’t seem relevant.”She shot Owen a baleful look in hopes of sympathy for what she had to put up with. He replied, “Full disclosure, sometimes he brings Steve.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We're back with Edie Barnes's story. Your reaction to Seismic Changes was fantastic and we hope you enjoy this one as well. (There's a lot more of the old team that shows up in this one.)

Edie liked to say she learned how to cook in self defense. Neither of her parents were much for cooking. And as long as take out existed they saw no reason to do so.  
Which was why she spent her days off in Ithaca filling their fridge with easy-to-heat-up meals so they didn't both die of hypertension before she could produce some grandkids for them.

Her mother liked to sit in the kitchen with her while she worked, usually knitting something. Today it looked like socks. Amanda's Christmas socks were a popular and sought after gift. The world saw her mother in a certain way, but most of Edie's memories were of the click of her needles as she worked on some project and the warm blankets and socks that come from it. When Edie had been making enough money to splurge on things, she'd gotten a tattoo to honor her heritage. A red star with a pair of crossed knitting needles on her left arm.

"What's on your mind?" Amanda asked as they worked.

"What?" Edie glanced over at her. "Nothing."

"You're attacking that carrot like it personally killed your dog."

She sighed and looked down at the vegetable. "I'm thirty five.”

“I’m seventy-two,” her mother replied. “Don’t tell me you feel old.”

"I think I feel. . . lonely?" She piled the carrot into a bowl and moved onto celery. "The restaurant has pretty much been my whole life for years now. Now that it's established and I'm getting free time, I'm kind of noticing I don't have a life." 

“Does it bother you because it bothers you, or because you feel like at 35 you should have a ‘life’?”

"I think it really bothers me. My restaurant will not cook me dinner when I'm seventy two. Well, it could, but you know what I mean.”

“You can hire people to do that.”

"Well, my next complaint was going to be about having someone to snuggle on the couch in front of reality TV shows, but you'll probably tell me that can be bought too.”

Amanda sighed. “No. That’s not something I felt a need for, to be honest. Snuggling involves touching. But you’ve always been better at that then me.”

Mom had never been much of a cuddler. She let Dad hug her and Edie and Roger had never been turned away. But it made sense she'd never missed the lack of it. "I guess I just feel like I'm missing something. That probably makes me a bad feminist. But I'd like my life to include more than work and sleeping. If I hadn't inherited the cousins I don't think I'd have any friends.”

The needles stopped moving. “You’re not a bad feminist because you want more in your life. When I was your age, my work was very consuming. And I did feel very fulfilled by it. I honestly probably would have been content even if I’d never met your father, never had kids. But he happened to me anyway.”

"I don't think a sexy assassin is going to saunter into my kitchen and present himself for courtship.”

“Didn’t seem likely one would saunter into my infirmary and almost break my arm—or that I’d end up marrying that guy.”

Of all the love stories among the older generation, Edie's parents were her favorite, followed closely by Aunt Nat and Uncle Clint. "Do you have any suggestions?”

“Go out and look for someone. There’s no shame in wanting someone.”

She was going to hold off on the onions until this conversation was over. "Is there a store I'm unaware of?”

“I believe that would be the internet.”

Edie groaned. "Why can't you be an obnoxious mother and set me up with people?”

Amanda looked over at her. “I don’t know any people. Try your brother, he has lots of friends. Lots of doctors. You could marry a doctor.” She put on the heaviest fake New York accent possible on the last sentence. 

"Ooo, a doctor," Edie replied in a matching accent. "He'd take good care'a me.”

“Doctors are kind of jerks, though.”

"I know, I've met Roger.”

“That’s the best yenta I’ve got. You could try Wanda, she does a great Jewish Grandma.”

"I might. I may also recruit some of the others to help with the internet thing.”

Her mother patted her arm. “And in your regular life, just be open to it, too. Your resting bitch face is completely my fault, but try to tone it down a little. You never know who might wander into your restaurant.”

She decided not to comment on the universe ending irony of her mother suggesting she smile more.

She spent the night in Ithaca, in her old bedroom, painted an unfortunate bordello red. She'd been a temperamental thirteen year old when they'd moved here from the city and her parents had indulged her in an effort to make her happy. Up to and including painting her room dark red. One day her father would get around to redoing it something more neutral, but she suspected there wasn't enough primer in the world to fully cover it.

In the morning, she made them stuffed french toast and candied bacon before heading back into the city to open the restaurant for lunch. Her head chef took the lunch shift most days, but she liked to take it once in a while, especially after she'd had a day off.

The building next to Winter’s Child was a barbershop that had been there since the beginning of time. The old guys were already sitting on the bench out front, reading the paper, and waved to her as she came to unlock and roll up the security gate. It was a nice neighborhood in the East Village, but it was still New York.

"Hello, gentlemen," she called. "What's new?”

“It’s supposed to rain this weekend,” one of them replied. “We were gonna play golf.”

“We can still play,” another replied.

“I’m not playing in the rain.”

“And yet you keep talking about moving to Seattle.”

She smiled, unlocking her front door. "If it rains you come over and I'll make you some soup.”

There was a pause, then, “Can we bring our friends?”

Wondering if she was about to regret her moment of charity, she asked, "How many friends?”

“Not many. Pretty much all of them are dead.”

"You sound like my dad." She wracked her brain to make sure she didn't have any big parties she was forgetting. "No more than twelve and don't come at Sunday brunch.”

The owner of the shop stuck his head out the door. “Are you guys seriously scamming a meal off my neighbor with that sad story about how all your friends are dead?”  
"Well they _are_ ," the one she'd been talking to insisted.

“I’m going to shave your head,” he replied, then looked over and waved. “Hey, Edie.”

"Owen," she replied, wiggling her fingers in his direction. "They're not scamming. I had a brief flash of generosity.”

“They’re con-artists,” he replied, fondness in his voice.

"My kind of people."

"You should come too," the ring leader told Owen. "You could use a good meal.”

“And you’ll look excellent as Mr. Clean.” He looked over at Edie. “But I do like your food.”

She grinned. "The invitation stands. If I can't treat my neighbors once and in a while what kind of New Yorker am I?”

He smiled and waved as he went back inside.

"We'll see you this weekend," her new friend said.

"Only if it rains," she replied, pointing a stern finger at him before heading into her building.

Her phone chimed on the way inside, with a text from her best friend. Ruby Stark-Potts was six months older than her, and they’d grown up shoulder to shoulder. Neither of them had sisters, so they had each other. Or, at least, very close first cousins. God knew their parents behaved like siblings. _Free for pedi/brunch/mimosas? I have gossip._

_I love gossip. Is Asima free, too? I need advice._

_I’ll call her. Her hours are more flexible now._ Asima Banner had just finished her medical residency and been released from the completely insane schedule that accompanied it.

_Just let me know where and when, I'm free tomorrow until 4._

_Awesome. I’ll set it up._

Edie smiled, flipping on the kitchen lights. Brunch with her girls. She supposed she did have a life after all.

They met at a very fancy spa uptown that Edie would not have been able to afford if Ruby wasn’t picking up the bill—and Ruby always was. Occasionally she’d let one of them wrestle away a restaurant check, but it was rare. “Spending money is what I do for a living,” she’d blithely told them.

There were certainly upsides to your parents being billionaires.

Asima was walking up as Edie got there and hugged her before Edie could dodge. "I need this. It's been a long week."

Asi was a pediatric oncologist. For her, a long or stressful week usually meant a story that would make Edie cry. "It's always a good day for a girl's morning," she agreed.

“Plus Ruby was cryptic, which is always exciting.”

"She likes to pretend she didn't get anything from her father." Edie pulled the door open for Asima to go in ahead of her. "But she clearly did.”

They were ushered into the back, where Ruby was waiting with mini-donuts and mimosas. They’d have real brunch after, but they liked their snacks. There was a quick round of hugs before they settled in their chairs with their drinks.

"So are you going to leave us in suspense?" Edie asked finally.

Ruby sighed. “My brother has apparently knocked up a movie star.”

Edie's jaw dropped and Asima squeaked, "No. George?”

“I wouldn’t phrase it that way if it were Junior,” she replied. Ruby’s brothers were identical twins. They were, together, just like their father, except they’d sort of divided up his conflicting facets. George was brilliant, ruthless, charmingly sarcastic and kind of a womanizer. He was a clone of the Tony Stark the world saw. Junior was more the Uncle Tony she’d grown up with, immensely generous with a poor sense of self preservation. When he turned 21, Junior had emptied his entire trust fund and given it to charity—and then called his mother because he couldn’t pay his rent.

"What did your parents say?" Edie asked. She assumed she'd have seen that explosion from the city.

“Dad yelled about his rule about being too famous to trust a strange woman’s birth control. George replied that she’s more famous than him, so it didn’t count. And honestly my mother is just excited there might be grandchildren before they die.”

Aunt Pepper did have a way of finding the bright side of things. “More famous them him, huh?” Asima said. “I look forward to the tabloid speculation.”

“I look forward to the lecture my mother is going to give him,” Edie added.

“It made me feel old.”

Edie held out her glass in a toast. “Join the club.”

“At least Roger isn’t reproducing,” Ruby replied.

“True. But neither am I. And I'm the only one I'm in competition with.”

“You guys want to have a siblings make you feel old conversation?” Asima asked, taking a swig of her mimosa. The aestheticians came in and got them in the chairs soaking their feet. “My oldest niece is going to be 16 this year. Six. Teen.”

“Your sister is an outlier and shouldn't be counted.”

“I count her because she provides the grandchildren, so I don’t get asked,” Asima replied. “You know my mother would.”

Violet did love the babies. “Yeah but in a subtle non obnoxious way.”

“Ada has provided them,” Ruby said. “And if she wants more, I’d be shocked if AB didn’t have any.” Asima’s younger brother was a kindergarten teacher. “So you and Neil are probably off the hook.”

Asmia shrugged in what looked like agreement and drank more of her mimosa. "So why do you feel old?" she asked Edie.

With a sigh, she glanced down at her feet, soaking in the bubbly water. "I think lonely is probably a better term.”

There was a chorus of sympathetic noises. Then Ruby said, “That’s easier to fix than aging.”

"I know. I'm just. . . not very good at dating. My mother suggested trying online, but that seems like just being a magnet for creeps.”

“There’s a lot of chaff, and a lot of weirdos, but there are decent guys if you look.”

She and Asima swiveled to look at Ruby. "Have you tried it?”

“I have. Sometimes it’s nice to get to know someone before I have to be Ruby Stark.”

Edie considered that a moment. "Want to help me write my ad?”

Ruby grinned. “I would love to.”

She looked over at Asima. "What about you? Ready to jump into the dating pool with me?"

She held up her hands. "I think I'm good.”

“You don’t need to find a husband,” Ruby said. “Sex is healthy.”

"Are you under the impression I am celebate? I'm a doctor, I get all the tail I want.”

Ruby patted her knee. “Good for you.”

She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. "Just don't tell my Dad.”


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s going to start raining any minute.”

“The weather said it will be sunny all day.”

“My bones never lie.”

Owen McCarthy swept the hair clippings out from under the barber chairs, listening with one ear to his grandfather’s friends up front arguing over the weather. They were debating with the same ferocity they debated politics and sports. Men had loitered in that very spot, arguing about Republicans vs. Democrats and their love or hatred of the Yankees, waiting for a shave or a haircut, for the better part of 120 years.

Generally, Owen enjoyed his job and his legacy. But some days, he really wished he’d become an accountant.

"You just want an excuse to go over to the restaurant and eye the chef, you dirty old man."

"I'm old, not dead. I can still look at a pretty girl.”

“Do you know who her father is? You’ll get your fake teeth knocked in with a vibranium arm.”

Why Owen felt compelled to pipe up, he had no idea. “You know, she can probably handle herself.”

They looked over at him. "So you been lookin' too.”

“I’m not looking at anything,” he replied. Which was a lie. “But I know enough about Doc Barnes to imagine her daughter was taught self defense.”

The men chuckled. "You think the fact she can kick my ass is a deterrent?"

“Okay, now you are 100% at ‘dirty old man.”

He waved a hand. "As long as I get lunch out of it.”

Owen went back to his sweeping. Five minutes later, there was clap of thunder.

There was triumphant cackling, and a round of groans. "Lunch it is. Owen! Come with us, son. You could use some soup.”

“People like getting their hair cut at lunch time,” he protested. He got a lot of walk-ins. But he didn’t have any appointments until 1.

"No one's going to look at the thunderstorm and decide it's a good day to stroll down to the barber.”

He could see all three of them looking at him. “Okay, fine. But we’re only having soup, and only if it’s not busy over there.”

"Of course, of course." They all started to slowly get to their feet as Owen put his broom away. 

He flipped around his “out for lunch” sign and locked the door once they were all on the sidewalk, listening to them speculate about what kind of soup it might be.

They walked the ten steps to the front door of Winter's Child and Owen held the door open for the rest of them. The hostess was a classically pretty blonde who looked like every other classically pretty blonde hostess he'd ever seen until he noticed the elaborate floral tattoo on one arm and the fact she'd paired her black cocktail dress with heavy lace-up combat boots. She smiled at them and asked if they had a reservation.

"Not precisely," Ted, the unofficial leader of the barbershop crew said. "But your chef offered us some soup if it rained. And, well, it's raining."

The smile faltered ever-so-slightly and she held up a finger. "One second, let me go check something." And she hurried off towards the kitchen.

This was when the chef would come out and tell them she'd been joking and they were packed full and she was so sorry-

The hostess reappeared, smile back on. "Come this way gentlemen." She lead them to the back of the restaurant, to a large plush booth with high sides. "Here you are. Chef Barnes says if you're willing to be her guinea pigs she can set you up with more than just soup. Would you be interested?”

“Absolutely,” Ted said, loudly, before anyone else could speak.

She grinned. "I'll let her know. Your waiter will be by soon.”

“I’m not eating snail,” Joe said.

“You’re no fun,” Ted replied. “I hope there’s snail.”

Owen shook his head and slipped into the booth with them. "I don't think this is a snail kind of restaurant."

A waiter swung by and got their drink orders, then dropped off a basket of bread. Before he returned with drinks, the chef herself appeared at the table. "Got rained out, did we?”

Owen found himself grinning at her, even though the guys would tease him later. “They told me nobody wants a haircut in the rain.”

"I think that's sound logic. You guys hungry?”

“I believe there was an offer of soup. . .”

"I promise there will be soup. But I have a couple of dishes I've been tinkering with adding to the menu. If you guys are willing I'll send them out and get your opinion on them.”

“I’ll try anything,” Ted said. “I’m already 4 years past my life expectancy, what do I have to lose?”

"You don't serve snails, do you?" Scott asked.

"No snails," she promised. "But I'll try to surprise you.”

“I just want to apologize in advance for them,” Owen said. “They’re assholes.”

"You say that because you don't know any chefs.”

“I know one and she’s perfectly nice.”

She blinked, then smiled brightly. "Well, thank you.”

Once Edie went back to the kitchen, she was barely out of earshot before Joe said, “You’re flirting with her.”

Exasperated, Owen replied, “I’m just being friendly.”

"Nah, that was flirting."

"It's about time," Ted added.

He rubbed the back of his neck. To be honest it had been so long since he’d flirted with someone, he didn’t entirely remember how. Apparently it was muscle memory. “Don’t start.”

"You started it, flirting with your pretty neighbor.”

“Told you he was looking,” Scott said.

"We should help. Does anyone know if she's been seeing someone?”

“I’ve never seen anyone,” Ted said. “No boyfriend loitering around.”

“Is she into boys?” Joe asked.

“It looked like she was flirting back,” Ted replied. “And you can say the word lesbian.”

“It’s not my business if she’s lesbian, I just wanted to know if she liked boys. Some people like both.”

Owen put his hands over his face. “Pops is rolling in his grave right now,” he told them. They were killing him, even if he knew they meant well. He knew they felt somehow responsible for him after his grandfather died, despite him being a grown man. They insisted they still hung around the barber shop to look after him.

Joe patted him on the back cheerfully. "Come on, we have over a hundred and thirty years of marriage between us. We must know something about women.”

“You know, I’ve actually been married.” They’d been at the wedding. . . and at the funeral. Which was not a topic he wanted in his head right now, and was pretty immediately sorry he’d brought it up.

There was a brief pause, in which he thought perhaps he'd shut them up in the worst way possible. Then Ted said, "Don't you want to date someone?”

“The shop keeps me busy, and I’ve got Gram to look after.”

"So you're lonely, then.”

He sighed. “I guess I am.”

"I know it's been a hard few years. But you can't put your life on hold forever. You got too much of it left.”

He had to clear his throat because there was a lump in it. They were easier to deal with when they were being old cranks. “Assuming I agree with that, which I’m not saying I do, I’m not sure the owner of the business next door to _my_ business is a good idea.”

"It's good to start with what you know. Especially when they're flirting with you.”

The waitress arrived with their food before he could reply, and he was grateful for the interruption. 

There was soup and an assortment of appetizers, which were all delicious. The conversation turned to the food, so the guys could play critic. The waitress brought out a selection of main courses, too, everything from duck breast to a whole trout.

He was just thinking the whole dating topic had been dropped, when Ted said, “Call me old fashioned, but there’s nothing like a woman who’s a good cook.”

There was a round of agreement, even as Owen groaned.

Mercifully - or maybe not - Chef Barnes appeared at the table again. "How was it, gentlemen?”

“We thought it was great,” Joe said. “Especially him,” he added, pointing at Owen.

He chose to ignore that, because it was all he could do. “Delicious as always.”

"Thank you. I'm thinking of putting the fish and duck on the menu. They're good fall foods.”

“Trendy types love whole fish. You’ll get good reviews on the food snob sites.”

She pointed at him. "You're onto me.”

“That’s because he’s smart,” Scott said. “He has lots of great qualities.”

Owen kicked him under the table.

If she noticed, she hid any reaction. "Well, I will let you know when it's officially on the menu. You can talk it up to your hipster clients.”

“I will absolutely do that.”

"Great. I'm going to head back to the kitchen, let Ty know if you want any dessert.”

He nodded, and watched her go.

"She has a nice ass, too," Scott commented.

“I don’t disagree,” he replied. “But you’re a dirty old man.”

He shrugged. "I'll own that. Dessert?”

“Dessert.”

*

Asima had to go to work, but Ruby came over to Edie's place Monday afternoon and helped her write up an online personal ad. She posted it and went to work, staying late to do a deep clean on the secondary fridge and finish up her inventory. When she checked her email the next morning, she had over thirty replies, which was almost enough to get her to close her laptop and never open it again. But instead, she started replying and setting up some dates.

_Bit of a gym rat but I also love to eat._

"And then Tim said there was no way I could get up to a three hundred pound clean and jerk but he's been stuck on two-eighty for weeks now so of _course_ I had to show him." Chad gestured at her with a finger. "You're not drinking your smoothie."

Edie glanced at the neon green concoction that had tasted strongly of uncooked kale and chalk. "I, uh, had a big lunch."

He nodded, slurping down some of his. "You said you were a cook?"

"A chef, yeah. I have my own restaurant in the Village."

"So do you know, like, nutrition and stuff?"

Amazed that she might actually get to talk about herself for a minute she said, "Yes, I went to culinary school and got an AS in Culinary Arts which includes several nutrition courses. It's actually really-"

"My trainers been bugging me to up my protein so I can build more muscle. Do you have any suggestions?”

Her joke about Soylent Green flew right over his head.

_Sensitive soul looking for a woman I can commit to._

“My ex is completely crazy. Things were great, and then she just lost her mind.”

The warning bells were clanging in her head, but Edie decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.”

“All of a sudden she’s chatting up other guys—like everywhere, right in front of me. And getting completely hysterical at the littlest things.”

Just make it through the coffee, Barnes. You can do this. "That sounds super frustrating.”

He gestured emphatically. “It was. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask her to reply within five minutes when I text her. God knows what she’s doing with those guys she’s talking to.”

Oh, what the hell, Ruby would bail her out. "Five minutes isn't a lot of time. What if she was busy? Or working?”

“If she loved me, I’d be her first priority,” he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the word.

"Yeeaaah." She reached for her purse. "This isn't going to work. Thanks for meeting me.”

_Favorite thing to do: jog in the park with my dog._

“Well, technically it’s my neighbor’s dog. Just seemed like a great line. People tell you that you can use a dog to pick up chicks, but not a Pomeranian named Miffles.”

Stifling a sigh, she asked, "Do you like dogs though?”

“They’re okay. They kind of smell and you have to take care of them.”

Technically true. "What do you do for fun?”

“Watch TV. I’m in between jobs right now, so I’ve got plenty of time.”

"Uh huh. How's the job market treating you?”

He shrugged. “It’s tough out there. And I’m looking for just the right job, you know? It’s gotta be good.”

"Right. So what kind of stuff are you looking at? I know a lot of people, maybe I can point you somewhere."

"Well, I'm kind of an idea guy, you know? I'm a thinker - an innovator."

Edie wondered if the headache growing in her temple was some sort of aneurysm.

_Adventurous guy who loves to meet new people._

“Do you really know Tony Stark? Can I meet him?”

_I don’t have a type. I love women of all shapes and sizes._

“You know, your pictures made you look a lot thinner.”

_World Traveler._

“Spring break in Cancun was just the best experience of my life.”

_Spiritual, but not religious._

“Have you accepted our Lord Jesus Christ as your personal savior?” 

"I personally know Thor, the Norse God of Thunder. Until Jesus changes a tire for me, I'm good.”


	3. Chapter 3

“People are terrible.”

“I don’t disagree with that,” Ruby said, holding out her fork to snag another bite of the bread pudding Edie had made for them. Sometimes Ruby came over in the lull between lunch and dinner for a ‘snack’ which was usually dessert.

"But, seriously, terrible. You would think they'd be on their best behavior. It's a first date!”

“Your luck does seem kind of unfortunate.”

"Maybe I'll just invest in some really good sex toys and call it a day," she muttered, digging into the bread pudding.

“You could go hit on your neighbor, he’s kind of hot.”

"He's also married." She waggled her ring finger at Ruby. "Though he is hot.”

“No interest in being the other woman, huh?”

"Not so much, no.”

Ruby paused, to eat and contemplate. “Maybe a longer chatting/screening period?”

"Ugh." She stabbed at her dessert. "Maybe in a while. I think I'll be taking a break from the hunting.”

“You’d probably have a great selection if your profile was just looking for no-last-name hookups. Remove the whole ‘dating’ element and get some nookie.”

"I don't think that would improve the quality of responses.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to talk to them.”

Edie shrugged and sipped her coffee. "I'm not much for random hook ups. Too much of my mother in me.”

“It think the only option left for you might be an arranged marriage.”

"I think Dad would rather send me to a nunnery.”

“I don’t think they have nunneries anymore.”

"He won't know that.”

Ruby laughed and shook her head. “It’s almost 4, I should get out of your hair.”

With a sigh, Edie reached for their dishes. "Yeah. Thanks for listening.”

Ruby hugged her. “You know I love you.”

She gave her a tight squeeze. "I know. I'll call you later. We should do something next week.”

“Hey, maybe Mr. Right will come to the restaurant tonight,” she called over her shoulder on her way out the door.

Yeah, just like her dad had staggered into her mom's exam room one random day. If anyone almost broke her arm she'd be sure to ask them out.

It was a busy night, and Edie got lost in her cooking. There was a large party that had a ton of special orders, which kept the kitchen busy.

When the last of the customers had cleared out and the servers had finished the main clean up, she shooed everyone out and did the final lock up and prep alone. It was late and she was bone tired, but happy. Maybe her mother was right, maybe she could find completion in the restaurant. Or maybe Ruby was right and she should give some casual hookups a try.

Either way, she wasn't deciding it tonight. Tonight all she wanted was a hot shower and an early bedtime.

The last thing she did was take one last bag of trash out to the dumpster. Just as she slammed the lid closed, someone jumped out from behind it and grabbed her.

She gave a rather undignified yelp, trying to wrench away. The man pushed her back against the wall. “Give me your money.”

"Do I look like I'm carrying a purse?" she snapped at him. He lifted a hand and she saw the dull gleam of a pistol pointed at her.

"I said, give me your money."

Edie let out a long, slow breath, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "Okay. Okay. But first, there's something you should know."

"What's that?"

"You really shouldn't stick your gun out at arm's length when you're in melee range." Confusion flickered over his features just before she knocked his arm aside and punched him. He staggered and the gun fired. He bent over enough she could easily knee him in the stomach, then punch him again.

Most of the team parents had insisted on their kids learning some sort of self defense. They were varying degrees of famous and could be targets. Even the Bennet girls had learned a bit. Edie had been raised by an assassin and a woman who'd had to stab a surprising amount of people before even becoming an Avenger. She could probably give an MMA fighter a run for his money.

The mugger was on the ground, with a broken nose and probably some cracked ribs before she registered the pain in her arm. She looked down to see blood spreading on her sleeve. That wasn't good.

“Edie? Are you okay?” Owen had come out of the back of the barber shop into the alley. She had no idea what he was doing in his shop at this hour of night, but she wasn’t complaining.

"Not really." She braced her good hand on the wall. "This guy tried to mug me.”

“Jesus, that _was_ a gunshot.” She noticed he’d come out armed with a straight razor. Edie thought her mother would really have appreciated that. “Looks like you knocked him out.” He reached out for her. “Come into my place and I’ll call 911.” 

She nodded and took an unsteady step. "My arm. . .”

“Okay, take it easy.” He reached out and put his arm around her. He helped her inside, paused to deadbolt his back door, and eased her into one of the barber chairs.

He stepped away to make a call and Edie tried to twist and check out her arm, suddenly wishing she'd gone Roger's route and taken some medical classes. It didn't look like the bullet had gone _through_ her arm, but had definitely gouged it. 

Owen came back with a first aid kit and his phone tucked against his shoulder. “Yeah, I left him in the alley and locked the door, I’m not going back out there.” He helped her ease out of her chef's jacket, leaving her in a tank top. He winced when he saw her arm and rummaged in the first aid kit. "Yeah, she's injured, looks like he shot her left arm.

Maybe it was the shock settling in, but it suddenly struck Edie as hilarious that it was her _left_ arm.

“I need both hands for first aid,” he said. “Please send someone quickly.” He hung up and put the phone down. “They always want you to stay on the line.”

"Probably to make sure you're not a crank." She blew out a breath. "What are you doing here so late?”

“I live upstairs,” he replied, opening up gauze packets. “My family owns the building.”

"Huh." She'd been here over two years and hadn't known that. "Sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t apologize, you got shot.” He carefully pressed the gauze pad to her wound.

She hissed but forced herself not to flinch. "I didn't finish locking the restaurant down.”

“If there’s no one in there and you have insurance, don’t worry about it. You kind of got shot.”

That was probably a good point. She could call Ruby in a little while and have her check on it. "I'm sorry if I disturbed your wife.”

She could actually see him startle, and he looked up at her. “What?”

"Your wife. If you live here, I assume. . ." She gestured vaguely at his hand.

He looked down at his wedding ring. “Oh. Right. God, I should take that off.”

Edie opened her mouth, then closed it again, pretty sure she was hazy enough with pain and blood loss that she'd say something stupid. Finally, she went with, “Sorry."

“Don’t apologize. She died three years ago. It’s long past time to stop wearing it.”

"My dad's wedding ring is fused on.”

“Deliberately or by accident?”

"Deliberate. His hand is metal, so. . . I should call them.”

He was holding the gauze around her arm with both hands, keeping pressure on it. “Do you need my phone?”

"Yeah. Mines in my purse in the restaurant." They'd need to get that if she was going to the hospital.

“It's in my back pocket. I can go get your purse once the police get here.”

She nodded, then reached behind him to find his phone, trying not to think too hard about the fact she was rummaging in her hot neighbor's pocket. She didn't know her parent's number, but most of them had memorized a main number that went to FRIDAY, who would then forward them to whoever in the network they needed to talk to.

"Hi, it's Edith."

"I don't recognize this number, Ms. Barnes."

"I know, it's a friend's. Can you patch me into mom and dad? It's an emergency.”

“Do you require emergency services?”

"They've already been called, thanks.”

“Hold on a moment,” she said.

A minute later her mother came on the line. “Edie? What happened?”

"Someone tried to mug me outside the restaurant. I beat him up but he got a shot off. My neighbor is helping me while we wait for police and a bus.”

There was a beat of silence. She could almost see her mother's face as she processed. “Put him on the phone.”

"My neighbor?" Her mother huffed and Edie sighed and held the phone up to Owen's ear. "She wants to talk to you.”

“Hello?” he said. There was a pause while he listened, and then he said, “I packed it with sterile gauze and am maintaining pressure. . . clean through, like a serious graze. Took a chunk out. . . Left arm below the elbow. . . I figured I’d let the paramedics do that. I don’t think she’s going to get gangrene in the next 20 minutes. . . I’m a barber.” Edie didn’t catch what her mother said, but it surprised a laugh out of Owen. She’d bet her _life_ it was a Sweeney Todd joke.

"Yes ma'am. She wants to talk to you again," he whispered to Edie.

She put the phone back to her ear. "Satisfied?"

"Mostly. Your father and I are heading down. Let us know when you find out what hospital you're going to."

"You really don't-"

"Shush."

“Yes’m." She could hear sirens out on the street. “I think the cavalry has arrived. I’ll let you know where they take me.”

"Good. We'll see you soon." She hung up and Edie slipped the phone back in Owen's pocket. "Sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind having the world’s most famous doctor check my work.” He took her right hand and placed it over the bandage to hold it, then went to open the front door for the knocking cops.

Things got a little frantic after that. Cops asked her questions while paramedics looked at her arm. A couple of officers went to the back alley with Owen to check if her attacker was still there. Then she answered more questions. At some point Owen ran to the restaurant and got her purse and locked the doors. Then the EMTs insisted she needed to go to the hospital and she asked where they were going.

"St. Bede's."

Roger's hospital. She sighed and texted her mother as they loaded her into the ambulance. Owen hopped in just as they were closing the doors. “Figured you could use some company.”

She smiled. "I could, thanks.”

He reached out and took her hand while they peeled off the gauze to look at her wound. It didn't look any better than it felt, so she glanced away, looking at their linked hands. "Can I ask what happened?" she asked, rubbing a thumb over his ring.

“Her name was Alice. She had a brain tumor. We'd been dating a couple months when she was diagnosed. They told her a course of radiation would get her six to nine months remission, and then it would be back, incurable. I asked her to marry me, and then we spent four months backpacking around the world. Bucket List trip. She died not long after our first anniversary.”

She squeezed his hand. "That's a very sweet story.”

“I wear the ring more as a reminder, in a way. The one thing left from the most remarkable year of my life.”

It made something in her chest ache to hear him talk about it. It was stories like that that brought her own loneliness into sharp focus. "I guess you're kind of used to hospitals, huh?”

He smiled. “You could say that.”

"I'm sorry for brining it up.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. It’s as much part of me as anything else.”

"It's nice to peel away some of the layers of my mystery neighbor.”

“And look, I’ve learned something new about you as well.”

"I'm a bleeder?”

“You’re apparently a ninja.”

She laughed and shook her head. "Well. You clearly know who my parents are.”

He laughed, too. “Yeah, I certainly do.”

"I used to joke about going on some cooking competition and playing it up. The Avenger chef.”

“TV show’s love that stuff.” Before she could reply the ambulance came to a stop, and then unloaded her. She lost sight of Owen as they rolled the stretcher in.

They parked her in a corner of the ER while the EMTs caught the resident up on her injuries. Whatever shot they'd given her was starting to wear off and her arm throbbed. She sighed and closed her eyes, really wishing she could go home.

A few minutes later, Owen stuck his head in. “Hey. They told me to stay in the waiting room, but I’m a rebel.”

She grinned and waved her good hand at him. "I like bad boys.”

“Your parents are here. I slipped past because the nurses are fangirling.”

"Of course they are." Her arm throbbed again and she frowned at it. "Over Mom or Dad?”

“Sounds like your mother. We are in a hospital.”

"Yeah, the team has a saying. Don't go to Harlem with Eli, don't go to Brooklyn with Steve and don't go to a hospital with Doc.”

He sat in the tiny guest chair. “If you want me to go before they show up, I won’t be offended.”

"No, no. You can stay. Mom will probably want to meet you.”

“I’d love to meet your mother,” he replied. “I’ve heard so much about her.”

She frowned, brow furrowing. "Were you a fan?”

Before he could reply, the curtain opened again, and her parents came in. Her mother beelined for her injured arm and started inspecting. "Wiggle your fingers."

"Mom, it's fine."

"Wiggle."

"You're retired, Mom."

"Edith Eleanor Barnes, you wiggle your fingers right now."

Edie sighed and flipped her off. Owen wisely stepped out of Amanda’s way.

“You okay?” her father asked. “Did you kick the guy’s ass?”

"I did," she told him. "I believe they loaded him into his own ambulance.”

“Good,” he said emphatically. He turned and looked at Owen. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” he replied. “You need a trim."

He lifted a hand and ruffled his shaggy hair. "I haven't been into the city in a bit."

"I like it long," Mom said mildly, poking at the IV.

"It's weird with the grey hair."

"I like the grey hair, too.”

“Some of the weird is probably the texture,” Owen said. “Grey hair has a different texture, so it lays different.”

Edie looked over at him. "Oh, my God, you're _his_ barber?”

“You didn’t know that?” Dad asked.

"No. You've talked about your awesome old fashioned barber but I didn't know he worked next to the restaurant.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t seem relevant.”

She shot Owen a baleful look in hopes of sympathy for what she had to put up with. He replied, “Full disclosure, sometimes he brings Steve.”

"We should compare stories we've heard too many times.”

“I tell good stories,” Dad insisted.

“Repeatedly."

The curtain opened again. “Hi, Ms. Barnes, I’m. . .” The doctor trailed off as he got a look at the people in front of him, and he blinked. “You’re _that_ Barnes.”

Edie sighed deeply as her mother smiled and nodded. The stammering and fanboying started and she reached over for her purse and dug out her phone.

_Are you busy?_ she texted her brother.

_I have a minute, why?_

_I'm in your ER and everyone is worshipping mom. Can you come glue my arm shut or whatever?_

There was a brief pause. _That's hilarious, I'll be right there._

Her mother was still talking to the ER doctor when Roger arrived a few moments later. It was kind of crowded in there, and he had to scoot around the edges. “Hey.”

"Hi." She showed him her arm. "I got shot. I know you're a couple years from your ER rotation but you're the only one in the building I know won't be star-struck by Doc being here."

He blinked. “You got _shot_?”

"A guy tried to mug me outside the restaurant. I beat his ass. My neighbor helped me out. That's Owen by the way-" She pointed at him. "He's my neighbor."

Owen waved, and Roger frowned at him. Like now was a great time to be all Big Brother.

She gestured to her wound again. "Glue? Please, Rog?"

“I can’t. this is one of those wounds that has to heal up from the bottom.”

Scowling, she said, "What does that mean?”

“Closing it will only make it worse.” He turned a little. “Mom. Back me up.”

"He's right, dear," she chimed in, finally turning from the ER doctor. "We'll cover it and they'll give you some antibiotics and pain killers but it'll have to heal on its own."

Edie let out an annoyed huff that she was aware sounded just like her mother but couldn't help. "Why am I even here? I could be home sleeping. I've been up since six.”

“For the antibiotics and the painkillers,” Roger said.

"Mom could have made that happen with far less drama.”

“Asima could have made it happen with less drama than that,” Dad said. “If you’re considering the doctors in your phone list.”

"Next time I get shot I'll keep that in mind."

The ER doctor finally squeezed his way over to the bed and started checking out the wound. "I don't have anything to add. I'll get them to process your prescriptions and a nurse will come in to irrigate and bandage the wound up."

"That sounds super fun.”

Roger looked at her seriously for a moment. “You want me to see if I can get someone to cover my shift?"

She sighed. "No, it's fine. I'm sorry I bothered you. I really do just want to go home and get some sleep.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Call me if you need anything.”

"I will. Thanks, Rog.”

He left, and then it was her mother’s turn to fuss, in her taciturn way. She went over care and cleaning and looking out for infections. She had always been adamant that the serum effects weren't hereditary, but Edie had never had a cold or gotten an infection and tended to heal quickly, though nothing that could be called superhuman. Maybe it was her childhood in Wakanda.

Her dad let her hold his hand when the nurse flushed the wound. Then they gave her a shot of pain killer, several bottles, and a packet of home instructions and sent her on her way.

"We need to drop Owen off," she insisted when her parents offered her a ride home.

“I can take a cab,” he said. “I don’t want to put you guys out.”

"Don't be silly," Mom said, in Doc voice. "It's no trouble. And we owe you. You took good care of Edie.”

The painkiller was kicking in, but clearly he’d agreed, because the next thing she knew, they were in the back of her parents’ car.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, because she was tired and it was there. "I'm going to sleep several days.”

“Tomorrow I’ll go over when your staff starts coming in and tell them what happened. Your sous chef can handle it?”

"Yeah. I've taken time off before, they'll manage."

“Anything else you need me to take care of?”

She sighed. Thinking was very hard. "Probably not?"

“How about I check in in the morning?”

"That's a good idea. I'm sure there'll be five crises by then."

She drifted again, and then the car came to a stop. “This is me,” he said.

With great effort, she shifted off his shoulder. "Thanks, Owen."

He smiled at her. He had a really nice smile. “Anytime.”

"G'night," she said softly as he let himself out.

When the reached her place, Edie let her parents bring her upstairs, and her mother help her into bed. “We can stay in town if you need us.”

Her first instinct was to send them away, because of course it was. But she was tired and drugged and hurt and wanted her Mom. "That would be nice.”

“Okay.” Mom kissed the top of her head. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning. For once.”

It was probably going to be cereal. "Thanks Mom.”

“Get some rest, honey. I love you.”

Yawning, she gave her hand a squeeze and closed her eyes. “Night."


	4. Chapter 4

Owen opened the barbershop at the usual time, but took a long lunch so he could go over and talk to the kitchen staff. His biggest accomplishment was probably convincing them not to all call her to check in. When he left they were discussing what sort of gift basket to send, which was probably the best compromise he was going to get.

His early afternoon was busy, and he barely noticed when the old coot crew took up their spot by the door. They'd probably love to hear the story from last night, but he'd literally never hear the end of it.

And then Bucky Barnes strolled into his shop.

The old timers greeted him enthusiastically. "Long time no see," Joe commented.

“Haven’t been down to the city in a bit.” He looked over at Owen. “This guy told me I needed a trim.”

“You do,” he replied.

"You have time for me?"

Owen gestured to an empty chair and Barnes sauntered over. "We're going to be staying in town a couple days.”

“That’s probably good. How’s Edie?”

"Cranky and drugged. She handles illness and injury about as well as her mother. They're back at her apartment trying to out stoic each other. I needed a break.”

“So you’re not here to kill him?” Joe asked.

Barnes's brows went up. "I was planning on thanking him. Unless you know something I don’t."

“Well, he is trying to get into your daughter’s pants.” 

Owen put his hands over his eyes. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

He looked back over at him. "Are you now?”

“Please ignore them and their smutty minds.” He shook out the drape and wrapped it around his shoulders. “I was just trying to help a friend in a situation.”

"Newbury women are not easy to help," Barnes told him. "I appreciate what you did.”

He smiled. “Eh, I’ve known her a couple years now. There’s a softie under that shell. Though I guess you don’t need me to tell you that.”

The old man smiled fondly. "No, not at all. Though not everyone can see it.”

Owen got out his clippers and got to work. “I’m impressed with your training, she kicked that guy’s ass.”

"Edie was always a good student. She probably could have gone into the family business if she'd wanted. But it wasn't where her passion lay." He sighed a little. "To be honest, I'm glad neither of my kids joined the team. 'Manda and I saw enough death for one family.”

“Less death than the other family business, too.” He sighed. “Maybe I do like her. Because I really hate hospitals.”

Barnes met his eyes in the mirror. "Women have a way of making us do things we didn't think we could.”

“That might be the story of my life.”

Silence fell while he worked on his hair. It was a strange conversation to have with the father of the woman he was quietly crushing on, anyway. He probably was lucky Barnes hadn't gone all protective. He was of that generation.

He was just finishing up when Barnes spoke up again. "I wouldn't try anything until she's healed up a bit more. But I'm sure Edie would enjoy seeing you.”

Owen tilted his head. “You’re not going to warn me off?”

"Of course not. Near as I can tell you're not an asshole. You've got a job and a life. And she's an adult who's more than capable of telling you to stick it if she's not interested.”

“He’s only an asshole sometimes,” Scott piped up.

"Everyone needs to be an asshole occasionally.”

He took the drape off and dusted his neck and shoulders. When Barnes asked what he owed him, Owen told him no charge.

"You're sure?”

“Just this once,” he said with a grin.

"All right then." He gave Owen a gentle pat on the arm, nodded to the rocking chair club and strolled out.

The door was barely closed, and Joe asked, “So you did what now with his daughter?”

He sighed. “Someone tried to mug her out in the alley. She beat him up, got hurt, I tended her and took her to the Emergency Room.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I told her about Alice.”

A chorus of sympathetic noises. "How'd she take it?"

"Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Her family is taking care of her.”

"So you met the family," Joe said knowingly.

He should have known they would make a big deal about it. “I cut her father’s hair. We’ve met.”

"You should go check up on her."

"Bring her flowers," Ted chimed in.

“I will consider doing that,” he said. “After her mother goes home.”

"Mom's scary, huh?”

“Little bit, yeah.” He went over to sweep the clippings up from the floor. “And I don’t want to be in the way.”

"Well, when you see her give her our best.”

His next client came in, and the guys went back to their chess game. The rest of the day was busy, though he did pause to send Edie a text and see how she was feeling.

_I love my mother, but I hate my doctor,_ came the reply. _Unfortunately, they are one and the same._

_At least the doctoring part is probably temporary._

_You don't know my mom._

It was a half an hour before he had a moment to respond. _Your father came in today._

_Oh God, I'm so sorry._

_He did need a trim._

_Did he get all 30s on you?_

From across the barbershop, he heard, “Are you talking to her?”

He looked up at the lot of them. “How could you possibly know that?”

“The dumb smile on your face.”

Owen didn’t dignify that with a response. _I am immune to Old Man, I really am._

_Yeah, that makes sense. I’ve met the Peanut Gallery._

_Your father was perfectly nice._

_Good. Mom and I are probably driving him crazy. The Edie and Amanda Show is on its 35th year and still going strong._

He debated a moment, then typed, _How long are they staying?_

_We haven’t discussed it. Probably another day or two at the most. Mom gets twitchy this far from her lab._

_When they’ve gone, I could bring you over some dinner so you don’t have to cook with one arm._

There was a pause, in which he panicked and rethought every decision he’d ever made. Then his phone pinged. _That would be really great, thank you._

He grinned down at his phone. “All right, you assholes, I’ve got a date.”

This was met with a ragged, if enthusiastic, cheer. “What are you going to wear?” Joe asked.

“Whatever I happen to put one that day.”

“You’ve no romance in your soul, son.”

He shook his head, because his next client was walking through the door. He ushered the man to his chair and said, “I have plenty of romance in my soul. I have none in my closet.”

“She’s already seen him,” Ted said solemnly. “I don’t know if impressing her is possible.”

“Thanks, Ted,” he said with an eye roll, and got to work on his haircut.

They kept yammering, because they didn’t really need his input for heckling. Though if he wasn’t careful they were going to show up with shopping bags and insist on a make-over.

*

Edie’s parents stayed two full days and left on the third. Her arm was gross, but healing nicely, with no signs of infection. She promised to have Roger and Asima take a look at it regularly. She was down to a half dose of pain killers, which meant she could operate her microwave and toaster without supervision and probably wouldn’t get mugged if she took a taxi somewhere. No one would give her a timeline on when she could return to work, probably because they knew she would go in at the lowest possible estimate no matter what anyone said. But she figured by next week she could probably go in and glare at her sous chefs.

She gave herself a night alone to decompress, then texted Owen to let him know she was unsupervised.

_How do you feel about Indian?_ he replied.

_I’m a fan._

_I’ll be over at 7:30_

_See you then._ That gave her most of the day to make a stab at cleaning the apartment and take a shower.

Not ten minutes later, her phone rang with Ruby’s number. “Can I interest you in takeout and some rom coms? I’m having a shitty day.” 

Oh, of course. “Uh . . . Could we do it tomorrow?”

Ruby sighed. “Are you hibernating?”

“No. Owen, the barber next door? He’s bringing me Indian food. I think it might be kind of a date.”

“I thought he was married?” Ruby had been over several times, but Edie hadn’t gotten into any details in front of her mother.

“He’s widowed. Just hasn’t taken the ring off yet. It’s actually a really romantic story.”

“I will be over in fifteen minutes and you can tell me all about it.”

Well, maybe she’d help clean up. “See you soon.”

As it turned out, Ruby came over specifically _to_ clean her apartment. “You have one arm,” Ruby said by way of explanation. If Edie was honest, she was a little impressed Ruby—who had not lived a single day of her life without domestic staff—even knew how to clean an apartment.

Unlike her mother, Ruby let her help as she could, so she wasn’t left sitting on the couch while Ruby puttered around her. While they worked, she told her the story Owen had told her about his wife when they were in the ambulance.

“That’s sweet and sad and beautiful all at the same time.” Ruby sighed a little. “You’re your own Rom Com right now.”

“Just like I always wanted,” Edie said, only have joking. “Though I’m apparently the girl in the epilogue after the uber romantic relationship has reached its end.”

“I don’t like the ones where it ends in tragedy. Life has enough tragedy. I’d rather be the epilogue girl than the dead one.”

“I suppose the odds of the epilogue girl dying too are lower.”

“And yours in particular.” 

“I do come from durable stock,” she agreed, lifting her bandaged arm.

She turned and surveyed the apartment. “Okay, well, it looks decent. You need help with you hair or makeup?”

“I’m not putting on make up, but you can help me tape a trash bag to my arm so I can shower.”

“You’d think we’d have better technology,” she commented, but she also located a plastic bag and a roll of duck tape.

“If you would like a fifteen minute diatribe on how hard it is to market solutions for common but unsexy medical needs, I know you have my mother’s number.”

“No, I’ve heard her and Dad loudly agree with each other about that quite enough, thank you.”

Edie chuckled. The Amanda and Tony show was - by far - the most entertaining thing on the planet. “Thank you for you help,” she said. “I’m sorry you had a shitty day.”

She shrugged. “Any time. I had brunch with my parents and all they talked about was George.”

“Sheesh, really? You’d think they’d be immune to his fuck ups by now.”

“Well, that was before there was a grand baby involved.”

“Ah, was it excited kibitzing then?”

“They’re talking about moving to California.”

Edie turned sharply to look at her. “Seriously? Your dad loves New York.”

“They spend like half their time in Hawaii, anyway. It’s cold here. I don’t know. I guess there’s not a whole lot to stay for. He does most of his arguing with your mother over video chat already anyway.” 

“She’s not going to be thrilled about her favorite patient being 3000 miles away full time.”

“She’s welcome to talk to him. God knows he doesn’t listen to anything I say. Actually it’s a lot my mother and the boys. She’s wanted to go since they moved, I think.”

“I’m sorry, Rubes. That really sucks.”

“Thanks.” Ruby hugged her. “But don’t worry, my family dysfunction will still be there tomorrow. For now, let’s get you in the shower. You have a date.”


	5. Chapter 5

The shower wasn’t the most dignified ten minutes of her life, but they got it done and her redressed before Ruby gave her a couple more hugs and headed out. Addition of a third wheel was not how Edie wanted to start her date.

Owen showed up exactly on time, carrying bags of food that smelled delicious. 

“Yum,” she said, ushering him in. “You can put them on the table over there.”

“I assumed you had drinks,” he said, carrying them over to her table.

“Yes, my father stocked my fridge and pantry for the apocalypse.”

He began unpacking the boxes. “You family certainly has experience with apocalypse, so I’ll trust them.”

“It’s practically a hobby for them.”

He looked up at her a moment, and then grinned. “You look really nice.”

She owed Ruby a fruit basket or something. “Thank you. I clean up nicely when not bleeding and in shock.”

“You do,” he said, entirely genuine.

Edie had the sneaking suspicion she was blushing, which made her feel about fourteen and awkward. Which is almost certainly why she blurted out, “So this is a date.”

He cleared his throat, and sounded a little awkward. “Yes?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Good. Glad we got that clear.” Why didn’t she inherit any of her father’s charm?

But it made him grin. “Good. How about we eat?”

“Sounds great. What would you like to drink?”

“Anything without carbonation, thank you.”

She fetched some bottled iced tea and joined him at the table. “You brought quite the spread.”

“It’s way too much, but I figured you’d need leftovers.” He rubbed his forehead. “I feel compelled to confess this is the first date I’ve been on in. . . four or five years. So I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I think you’re doing okay. I’ve been on, like, a dozen terrible dates the last couple months, so my bar is really low.”

He loaded up his plate from various containers. “Why are you going on terrible dates?”

“I don’t meet a lot of guys in my day-to-day life so I joined a dating site.” She dumped a bunch of rice onto a place and began sampling the various main dishes. “Gotta kiss a lot of frogs, apparently.”

“People lie on the internet, huh?”

“People think very highly of themselves. And are not so awesome in person.”

“The worse people are, the more highly they thing of themselves.”

Edie smiled. “I’ve noticed that to be true.”

He ate some of his food, then said, “So tell me something about yourself that doesn’t involve the restaurant. And remember I already know you’re a ninja so you’ll need to come up with something else.”

It was kind of depressing how long it took to come up with something. “I can knit.”

“Never make me a sweater, it’s bad luck.”

She paused with a forkful of butter chicken halfway to her mouth. “How on Earth do you know about the Boyfriend Sweater Curse?”

He laughed. “My grandmother. Apparently it goes way back.”

Shaking her head, she said, “I probably couldn’t make a sweater even if you wanted one. I mostly make various sizes of rectangles.”

“You could piece together a sweater from four rectangles.”

“Eh, maybe a poncho.”

“I’ve had people come into the barbershop asking for hair clippings because they want to knit something with human hair.”

She didn’t know if she was capable of making a face horrified enough for that information. “That is both gross and impractical.”

He frowned. “It is, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned that while eating.”

“It’s fine. I have a stomach of steel. My mother has discussed terrible things over dinner.”

“I spend most of my day with a bunch of old men, I think my filter is messed up.”

She laughed. “I can only imagine their dinner conversation.”

“They’re good people. They were my grandfather’s best friends. I think they feel responsible for me, and also they miss him and the barbershop helps.”

“I’m remembering correctly, the shop was your grandad’s? And his dad before him?”

“And his before him. Been there since 1928.”

“As the daughter of someone born in the ‘teens, I am officially impressed.”

“My mother died of a fentanyl overdose when I was baby, so my grandparents raised me. I grew up underfoot in that barber shop.”

Jesus, he really did have a romance hero backstory. She was probably a bad person for thinking that. “I’m sorry. You never knew your father?”

“No. Sometimes I think about doing a DNA test and trying to find his family. He was an addict like my mother, and don’t imagine he ended up with a long and healthy life.”

Not sure what else to do, she reached over and touched the back of his hand. He turned his hand over and smiled. “I had a very happy childhood."

“Good,” she said quietly. “So did I. Despite knowing the plural of apocalypse.”

“I always got that sense about your people. Very close knit, like an extended family.”

“That’s exactly right. I have half a dozen moms and dads. And more siblings and cousins than anyone should ever have to put up with.”

He looked down at their half-linked hands. “I’ll admit, I kind of always wanted that. It was just the three of us. My Gram will be 90 this year. Some day soon it’s going to be just me.”

That wasn’t something she’d ever have to worry about. Short of one of those apocalypses they’d been joking about, she would always have someone. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “That must be hard.”

“You’d be surprised what you can take,” he said, sometime she could hear either of her parents saying.

She gave his hand a squeeze. “We are very resilient, as a species.”

“Aaaand now I’ve made it depressing.”

“No, no. That was a joint effort.” She smiled and patted his hand. “It’s hard to get to a certain age and not have depressing landmines.”

“You can now add getting shot to your own tragic backstory. Along with being an international fugitive as a toddler.”

“That was all way more anticlimactic than you might think.”

“You underestimate how boring regular people’s lives are.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve been normal for many years now. But I was a toddler when we were fugitives. I just have some very vague memories of living in Wakanda.”

“You are both normal, and the daughter of superheroes,” he said, gesturing at her arm. “But I like both sides.”

“Well. . . good. I’m glad.”

He squeezed her hand. “We’ve distracted ourselves from our dinner.”

“Fortunately, Indian food is just as good cold.” She took her hand back so they could eat.

Edie didn’t think she’d have listed it in her want-list for a boyfriend. But conversation so engrossing she forgot to eat was a good start.

*

After dinner they sat on her couch to watch a movie, but never even got as far as the remote because they started talking and didn’t stop. They talked about anything and everything. He told her about his trip around the world with Alice and she told him more about her family. 

“So the teacher tells them Roger hasn’t turned in a single assignment all month and my mom is ready to rip my brother from stem to stern by Dad’s like, no, no. You gotta know how to interrogate properly. We’re going to make him want to tell us. So they get home, sit Roger down and my dad, very calmly, tells him the teacher had told them some very disappointing things and was there anything he wanted to tell them? And after a long pause and a look of utter panic, my brother says, ‘Well, first of all, George was the one who brought the liquor.’”

Owen laughed. “God. I can’t imagine being a scared teenager being interrogated by your father.”

“Well, Dad almost pissed himself laughing and my mom decided it was time to call the Starks and then it was a _party_.”

“I bet those kids got up to all sorts of shit.”

“George and Roger did,” she said, sipping the tea she’d made a little while ago. “And later Jamie Rogers. Junior’s a good boy and Joey was born lawful good. We’re a strange mix. Everything from bad boys to boy scouts.”

“Where did you fall?”

She shrugged. “Eh. I was a bit of a grumpy rebel. I had trouble figuring out where I fit in. I wasn’t a genius like Mom and while I was a good fighter I wasn’t really athletic. So I didn’t know what to do with myself and with parents like mine and the other adults I was surrounded by-“ She shrugged again. “A lot of us felt pressure to be amazing.”

“A lot of kids crack under that kind of pressure.”

“I think it helped that there were so many of us. There was always someone to talk to who understood. All of us have best friends among the cousins still.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you are pretty amazing.”

She smiled, looking very soft and pretty. “Thank you. I was sixteen when I took a random cooking class and loved it. That’s when I found my fit.”

“There have been six restaurants on that corner over the course of my life,” he said. “And I have _never_ seen crowds like you get.”

“Some of that is the last name. But I am very good at flavor combinations.” It wasn’t said smugly or condescendingly. He appreciated that she knew her talents. “And every one loves comfort food.”

“It is very, very good food.” He sighed reluctantly, and said, “It’s getting late.”

She glanced at her watch, an old clunky one he’d notice her wear before. “I think it was getting late a couple hours ago. We’re well into late now.”

“Sorry,” he said, even though he wasn’t.

“Don’t be. I had a great night. I’d offer you my guest room but I feel like a gaggle of old men would show up at dawn demanding to know my intentions.”

He laughed out loud. “Probably, yeah. If they don’t call the police.”

“I can’t be responsible. I’d been serving them free soup for the rest of their lives.”

“I understand.” He pulled himself to his feet. “I had a nice night.”

“So did I.” She stood to walk him to the door. “I’ll try to be back at the restaurant next week. But we should get together again before that.”

“I would really love that.” He turned at the doorway. “You’re not going to cold clock me if I kiss you, right?”

“No, but mostly ‘cause you asked nicely.”

“I’ll take it,” he said, and then leaned in to do just that. She stretched up to meet him, which was reassuring. Her good arm wound around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her. She felt warm and soft and her kiss was eager and open.

He framed her face in his hands, and let the kiss go on longer than he’d intended. Because she tasted good and he wanted her. And it had been such a long time.

Edie sighed softly when he finally lifted his head. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Really good night.”

“I’ll call you,” he said, reluctant to let her go, but knowing he had to.

“I look forward to it. Safe trip home.”

“Goodnight, Edie,” he said, and finally ducked out.

The next morning, the guys were full of curiosity and teasing. He didn’t even mind.

“Just this once, I give you permission to kiss and tell,” Ted said.

Owen laughed. “Because you’re nosy?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

He looked at all their expectant faces. “We had a lovely dinner. Mostly we talked. Yes, I did kiss her, but I’m not telling you any more detail.” This prompted a round of applause, which might have been more embarrassing than an interrogation.

He could feel his cheeks heat. “I have a client coming in fifteen minutes, please behave.”

“We’ll be good. Sitting over here, patting ourselves on the back.”

He laughed. “You guys are taking credit for this?”

“We _are_ the ones who encouraged you to flirt.”

“You know what? I’m in such a good mood, I’m going to let you.”

They razzed him about it the rest of the day, all in good fun, and he was legitimately happy enough to let them. Of course, all teasing stopped when her brother - who was the image of his father only somehow even handsomer - strolled in. 

Owen sighed a little. This couldn’t be a coincidence. He hoped this wasn’t a thing. Roger Barnes certainly looked like a guy who could have testosterone poisoning. (He’d learned from his days with Alice that a lot of surgeons did.)

“I’m told by a reliable source that this is the best place in the city to get a haircut.”

Owen inclined his head and gestured at a chair. “Have a seat.”

Roger did so, sinking into the chair and holding still as Owen wrapped the drape around him. “I’m not here to threaten you,” he said conversationally when Owen came back with the scissors.

“Probably a good thing to mention before I come near your head with a sharp object.”

“You know, that was my thinking. I’m mostly here to warn you. Which you may _think_ would be a clever way of saying I’m threatening you but nicely. But it’s actually a real warning.”

“If it’s to tell me the real person I should be scared of is your mother, I know.”

He laughed. “Well, good. But also, to paraphrase Dickens, when your interest in my sister gets out, you will be visited by numerous superheroes.”

Owen chuckled. “So, you’re here to be Marley?”

“More or less. Beware, repent, and all that. Edie’s one of the first babies and she lived in the Tower and Wakanda, so there’s a long list of people who watched her grow up and want to make side eye at her boyfriends.”

“You know she’s an adult, right?”

“I do, that’s why I’m not threatening you. The rest of them are a little shakier on this fact.”

“I will keep that in mind. Your father seems to like me.”

Roger grinned. “He does. So does mom. She was impressed with your emergency medical skills.”

“She made a joke about Sweeney Todd.”

“Yeah, that’s mom.”

They lapsed into silence for most of the rest of the haircut. Owen appreciated the lack of interrogation. “On the house,” he said at the end.

Another crooked grin. “Hey, thanks. I’ll see you around.”

“Well, boys,” he said when Roger left. “We’re in for an interesting week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost feel bad ending it there but the next part is so funny it deserves its own chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

They promptly started a betting pool about who would show up first. Joe won that Tuesday when Tony Stark wandered in like he’d been getting his hair cut there his whole life.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” Owen said, like he had billionaires in his barber shop all the time.

“Mr. McCarthy,” he replied smoothly. “Nice place. You’ve kept the building perfectly restored.”

“Thank you. My family has owned it for a long time.”

“So I’ve heard.”

They bullshitted about New York history and architecture and the price of land while Owen gave him a trim and cleaned up his beard. No threats were exchanged. Edie wasn’t even mentioned.

The next day Steve Rogers came in, which wasn’t weird, he’d been a time or two with Bucky. He also didn’t mention Edie, keeping on his usually friendly chatter.

Steve did get fussed over by the guys, though. Old people were always big fans of Captain America. Owen took a picture of him talking to them and sent it to Edie.

_Uncle Steve clearly has a fan club._

_Tony Stark was in here yesterday._

There was a pause. _Seriously? Anyone else?_

_Your brother came to warn me about the pending visitations._

_Oh for Christ’s sake. I’m sorry._

_It’s okay,_ he told her. _You’re worth it._

No one showed up the next day and he thought maybe the storm had passed. On Thursday they got a newcomer, an older guy with a weathered face and a bit of brown still threading the grey hair. He didn’t talk much, just nodded to the gang at the door and took a seat.

Owen was in the middle of his cut when Edie came in and stood in the customer’s eye-line, hands on her hips. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said, without even a hello to Owen.

“I just wanted to look him in the eye,” the man said. “I’m not even armed.”

“That is bullshit and we both know it.”

“I didn’t even tell him who I was.”

“That’s correct,” Owen piped up. “I have no idea what is going on right now.”

Edie sighed. “Owen, this is my uncle Clint. The original Hawkeye. You should be flattered, he generally only leaves upstate for weddings and funerals.”

“Ah,” Owen said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Clint said.

“How many more of you are coming?” Edie asked. “I will start patrolling the front of the store. I think I can take about half the new team.”

“I heard Sam wanted to, but he’s weird about his hair, and then Lani got wind.”

“Well good.” She looked up at Owen. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s the least disruptive of the parade by an order of magnitude.”

“Which is ironic because he’s actually the biggest deal. Seriously, Clint doesn’t leave the farm.”

“I’m sitting right here.”

She looked back at him. “Aunt Nat let you get that goat yet?”

“No, but I still have hope.”

“You should convince her favorite nibling to get you one as a present. She won’t be able to say no.”

“Are you trying to bribe me to leave?”

“I was unaware I was her favorite. But if you can ensure Owen’s impromptu parade of Avengers is over I will buy you a goat and a book for Nat on how to make soap from goat’s milk.”

He seemed to consider it. “I’ll see it handled.”

“Excellent, I will send out inquiries to my agricultural contacts.” She looked up at Owen. “I’m helping with prep tonight but not working the line, you want to come over and have dinner with me after you close up?”

He grinned at her. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Mosey over when you’re ready.” She bent and kissed Clint’s cheek. “Give my best to Ithaca.”

“Good to see you, Edie,” Clint replied.

She waved and headed out, giving the guys at the door a nod. Owen looked down at Clint. “What me to finish your hair?”

“Please do. Bucky says you do a great job.”

Once done, Owen sent him on his way—no charge, like the others. His other clients were not nearly that interesting.

*

Edie’s arm healed over the course of a couple weeks, leaving a gnarled red scar. Asima and Roger assured her it would probably still improve, smoothing out and turning white. Once it did she’d probably get a tattoo over it, though she hadn’t decided what, yet.

She was finally back to work full time, and was juggling that with her relationship with Owen. And it was, officially a relationship. The longest one she’d had in many years.

It was very convenient to have him next door. He’d close up the shop and come over and eat with her. Sometimes she cooked something and took it up to his place. They made jokes about how they should go somewhere, but this worked for them, so they didn’t bother.

“This really is convenient,” she commented one evening. “Living above your work. I wish I could do it over the restaurant.”

“You’re already a workaholic,” he replied. “I’m not sure that would help.”

“But my midnight snacks would be _awesome_.”

“They would. I’d probably never get any sleep.”

She was pretty sure he hadn’t meant an innuendo in there, but her cheeks heated a little anyway. “I’m not that loud.”

He laughed, blushing as bad as she was. Probably worse, he had very Irish skin. “I meant I’d come have snacks.”

“Oh. Yes. You’d be welcome for snacks. I’d even take requests.”

His mouth quirked. “That could get interesting.”

He had to be doing it on purpose now. “Do you have exotic tastes?”

“No,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “I like simple things done very well.”

They probably weren’t talking about food anymore. “That might explain why we get along.”

“Yeah,” he replied, and then he leaned over and kissed her. Edie sighed and slid her arms around him, kissing him back. He shifted a little closer and deepened the kiss, much to her delight. Tightening her arms, she opened her mouth to him and let it take off. He pulled her across the couch and into his lap. 

“Well hello,” she murmured against his mouth.

“Hi,” he said. His hands slid up her back. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She sighed, leaning into his touch. “This is usually the time I start making excuses to go home.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“Not really, no.” She played with his hair. “But it you’d prefer I did. . .”

“I want you to stay,” he said. He kissed her again. “I want you.”

She sighed again and leaned on his chest. “Good,” she murmured, burying her fingers in his hair. 

“I feel compelled to warn you I haven’t done this in quite a few years.”

“Well we have changed a few things, but I can walk you though it.”

HIs hands were under the bottom hem of her shirt, touching her skin. “I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Mmm. Absolutely.” After a moment, she lifted her arms and he tugged her shirt up and off.

He grinned, clearly enjoying the sight for a moment, then reached up to unclasp her bra. She let it slid down her arms and tossed it to the other side of the couch. “Your turn,” she told him, tugging his shirt. He sat up a little bit and helped her pull it up and off.

Edie had grown up around some very impressive male chests. She considered herself somewhat of a connoisseur. Owen’s was quite nice, especially given he didn’t have a particularly active job. Nicely shaped, a bit of muscle, and just the right amount of hair. She ran her hands down him, tracing lines and dips.

“You are so gorgeous,” he said softly. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I’m really more my own and letting you borrow me,” she teased. “But thank you.”

He laughed. “I will rephrase. I can’t believe you’re sitting half-naked in my lap.”

“Ah.” She kissed him again, resting chest to chest with him. “That is pretty awesome.”

Owen put his arms around her and turned them, laying her down on the couch on her back. He cupped one of her breasts in his palm while he kissed her.

“I should probably mention it’s been a while for me as well,” she told him, stroking her hands down his back to cup his ass.

He bent his head to kiss her breast. “So it could have changed even more than we know?”

“Yeah. We’ll probably be doing an outdated version.”

“Oh, well.” He kissed her sternum, and unbuttoned her jeans.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” She arched her back so he could work the denim down a bit. “I’ll be extremely complimentary.”

He peeled them down with great care, dragging the fabric down her legs, and then trailing his fingers back up. She groaned, shivering a little at the light touch. He nudged her gently and she let her legs fall open a bit as he explored her. He kissed her stomach and he kissed the inside of her thighs. His fingers stroked over her sex, but he took his sweet time.

“You have a lot of patience for someone who’s been waiting a while.”

“I like taking my time and doing things right,” he replied. His thumb found her clit. “You want me to stop?”

She shuddered at the contact, eyes fluttering shut. “I didn’t say that. I did not even imply that.”

He moved his thumb in a slow, gently circle. “Faster, then?”

Another groan. “Yes. Please.” He did, bless the man, and pleasure shot through her. It was just a moment though, and then he replaced his hand with his mouth.

That was even better than his fingers. Edie shuddered again, keeping her eyes closed to focus on the pleasure. It built up inside her, slow and steady, and as it grew more intense, she tangled her hand in his hair again to hold him right where he was.

When it burst she cried out wordlessly, lifting up into his mouth. She drifted in the pleasure for a moment, and he rubbed her leg gently, just waiting. She took a deep breath, shuddering with aftershocks, before reaching an arm out for him. He grinned and leaned over her, very thoroughly kissing her mouth.

She hummed in pleasure. “You have a few tricks up your sleeve, out of practice as you are.”

He grinned. “It’s coming back to me.”

“Good.” She tugged at the fly of his jeans, rubbing her knuckles against the clear erection beneath it. He shuddered and reached down to help her, their hands getting in each other’s way.

They laughed, fumbling a bit, until she could finally pull the zipper down. Owen fought his pants off, before rejoining her on the couch. She kissed him deeply, framing his hip with her legs and he settled on top of her. He sighed like he just remembered something. “Birth control?”

“I’m covered. Have been since I was fourteen.”

“It’s prudent to check. Seven people might kill me if I ‘knocked you up’.”

“They would be fucking thrilled about grandbabies, you mean.”

“How about we discuss that later?” He replied, getting back to kissing her. She chuckled, wrapping her arms around him, since that seemed like a good idea. He felt very good laying on top of her, a warm, study weight. He braced on one arm, reaching down and pulling her thigh higher, opening her wider. He hesitated a moment, like he was giving her a chance to object, before pushing slowly inside her.

For the first time in her life, Edie had the urge to purr. It had been way too long since she’d had sex, she almost forgot how nice it felt, being stretched and full. Or maybe it was just him. She kissed him tenderly and lifted her hips to meet him, encouraging him to move. He groaned and took a couple of breaths. “I’d forgotten how good this feels,” he murmured.

“Me too,” she admitted, stroking a hand down his back. “Though I swear you feel especially good.”

“Yeah.” He moved a little, and then more, sliding in and out of her.

And, of course, that felt even better. She tipped her head back, arching into him. His pace quickened little by little, building friction up inside her. Multiple orgasms often eluded her, but there was something to be said for a new lover and breaking a long spell. Because she swore the impossible was about to happen.

He must have sensed it, because suddenly his hand was between them, touching her just the way she needed. She gasped, nails digging into his back. The second climax crashed through her and she shook, clenching around him as she rode it out. He thrust harder, faster, seeking his own. She held him and felt the shudder pass through him as she was drifting back down.

She held him to her as he buried his face in her shoulder and rode it out. For a few moments everything seemed just perfect.

“That was worth it even if they do kill me,” he mumbled.

“If anyone comes after you about premarital sex you should just laugh at them.”

“Right now, you could kill me with a feather.”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t want to do that.” She kissed his cheek and rubbed his back. “I hope to use you again later.”

He moved enough to kiss her shoulder. “That a promise?”

“My honor as a Barnes.”

Owen pushed up on one elbow to look down at her. “You know, I meant to make it to the bed, not do it on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers.”

“Oh, please. Beds are so passé. Couches are where it’s at.”

“Damn, and I was just going to suggest we go in there.”

Edie shook her head and kissed him. “I’m sure you can persuade me.”

“We’ll have more space to roll around. . .”

She patted his shoulder. “All right, you’ve talked me into it, get up.”

His bed was nicer than she expected it to be, heavy wood and a nice mattress, full of cozy pillows, nice sheets, and a very cushy mattress. The kind of bed a woman would set up.

“It’s a different bed,” he said, like he could read her thoughts. “She just taught me to appreciate such things.”

She let out a little relieved breath. “Well, good. I also appreciate such things.”

“The bed _frame_ belonged to my grandparents. It was built in the spot like a hundred years ago and you’d have to sledgehammer it to get it down the stairs. I inherited it when I moved in here after he died.”

“That’s kind of cool,” she said, running a hand over the carved foot board. “My father would approve.”

He pulled back the duvet and climbed in. “You should come here. Much as I am enjoying you wandering naked around my bedroom.”

She joined him in the bed, curling up against his side. “Oh, it’s even more comfortable than it looks.”

Sighing, he kissed the top of her head. “Stay the night?”

“I’d love to.” Settling her head on the pillow next to his shoulder, she closed her eyes. “You make me happy,” she told him.

“You make me happy, too,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

She rubbed his chest gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “Right now, everything is wonderful.”

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his skin. “Sleep well, Owen.”


	7. Chapter 7

Two days later, Owen got his final visitation. 

Ruby Stark-Potts strode into his barber shop and didn’t even pretend she was there for a haircut. He watched her click across the tile floor in her two-thousand-dollar shoes. If anybody was going to kill him, it was this woman.

“I keep waiting for Edie to introduce us,” she said, and held out her hand.

He shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

“I think I’ll be seeing a lot of you, so I wanted to just get this out of the way now. I know she’s a grown up, but she’s my best friend and one of the nicest people I know. If you break her heart, I will ruin your life. You know who I am; you know I can do it.”

Edie had told him enough about Ruby to know she’d probably be annoyed if he commented on how much she was clearly her father’s daughter, but right now she absolutely was.

“Understood, ma’am,” he said instead.

She smiled. “Good. When she introduces us, we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Of course.”

She nodded once, and then turned and walked out.

Sure enough, when they met a couple weeks later at a luncheon at Winter’s Child, he pretended it was the first time and so did Ruby. They got on well, now that they were clear on where they stood. He also met Asima Banner, who was very sweet and kind and made sure he knew that, as a doctor, she could make death look like an accident. He liked Edie’s friends. It was good to have people looking out for you.

They settled into a routine. Edie spent more and more time at his place. She acquired a shelf in the bathroom and a drawer in his dresser. His kitchen got better knives so she’d stop bringing them from the restaurant (his, apparently, were crap). He took her to meet his Gram, who’d been robbed of some of her tact by the beginning of dementia and demanded to know if this one was dying, too.

When Edie laughed and told Gram that even death was scared of her father, he swore he fell a little bit more in love with her. Especially after Gram told her she’d had a crush on Captain America as a girl and Edie gamely offered to get her some topless pictures.

“You should meet my family,” she said on the way home. “Well, re-meet them. Under better circumstances.”

“And your mother will need an opportunity to threaten my life,” he replied. 

She sighed deeply but didn’t contradict him. “There’s a thing up in Ithaca in a couple weeks. The Banners' anniversary, I think it is. You could come up with me. I know a huge thing might be kind of overwhelming, but you’d also blend with the crowd.”

“I deal with people all day, I’m pretty impervious. Sounds like fun.”

“You’ll get to see my bordello painted bedroom, too.”

“Will I be allowed to sleep in it?”

“We will. My father is from the thirties, but very forward thinking.”

“Okay, well, now I’m excited. I’ve never been one pass up a good bordello theme.” She smacked him in the arm lightly, but laughed.

So two Saturdays later, he closed the shop and she left her sous chefs in charge and they drove up to Ithaca for a party at Avengerville. He’d heard many tales of the famous compound, and was kind of eager to see it. Along with Dr. Marley and his band of ghosts.

It was a very pretty drive upstate, especially in the fancy car she’d borrowed from the motor pool at the Tower. The compound was out in the boonies, surrounded by woods and backed up against a lake. He saw a few glimpses of the medical and other Stark business buildings before they turned down the long road to the houses.

The parking lot was full of cars and he could hear the sounds of a party when they climbed out.

Owen reached out and took her hand. “Cute neighborhood.”

“Thanks. We moved back here when I was a teenager. I was so mad.”

“Where were you before?”

“In the Tower in the City. Before that Wakanda, though I don’t really remember it.”

“Yeah, I could see how this would be a big culture shock.”

They started walking for the gates that would lead to Avengerville proper. “The only saving grace was that _everyone_ moved out here. So I was with Ruby and Asima and all the others. Having a neighborhood of built in friends made it bearable.”

“And then you grew up and came back to the city?”

“With a detour in France for cooking school. That’s what all the numbers on my thigh mean, by the way. Longitudes and latitudes of places I’ve lived.”

He’d wanted to ask, but it had always seemed like it would sound odd—demanding to know what her tattoos meant. “I admit, as a city kid, I’d have loved all this green.”

She smiled up at him. “Suck up to Uncle Clint and Mom they’ll invite you back for fishing.”

“I have never fished in my life.”

“Oh, then you haven’t lived.” He really couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Before he could ask, the crowd milling around the green noticed them and they were swallowed up.

She was hugged by—and he was briefly introduced to—more people than he could reasonably keep track of. His favorite was the small woman in her 60’s who said only, “The goat is your fault,” before vanishing back into the crowd.

“If I die mysteriously, you tell them Aunt Nat did it,” Edie said. “Don’t believe anything else.”

Roger appeared in front of them. “You made it!”

“I did.” 

He swept her up in a hug and stuck a hand out to shake Owen’s hand. “Good to see you again.”

“You, too.” The welcome seemed genuine. He supposed they’d accepted him into their midst and he’d passed their test.

“Are you two staying the night or heading back after cake?”

“We’re staying,” Edie told him. “I promised Owen a night in the bordello.”

“Double standards,” he said. “They’d never let me do that.”

“It’s hard not being the favorite, isn’t it?”

Roger sighed. “I’ll never measure up.”

“It’s true. Here I am a successful business woman with a hot boyfriend and what are you doing again?”

“Not a hot boyfriend, that’s for sure.”

“If you’re into pretentious hipster types, we get lots of them coming in the barber shop,” Owen offered. “Also old men, but you don’t look like you need a sugar daddy.”

Roger grinned. “Not really my type, but thanks for the offer.”

“Have you seen Mom?” Edie asked.

“Over by the BBQ trying to get Uncle Tony away from the charcoal smoke.”

“Of course she is.” She gave her brother a pat on the arm and took Owen’s hand, heading over towards the BBQ pit. “Mom, leave that poor man alone!”

Amanda turned around, and waved when she saw them. “He’s already had pneumonia this year, he doesn’t need to be downwind of the carcinogens.”

“You’re going to feel real stupid one day when I’m lying in bed dying of nothing,” Stark said, nodding to Edie and Owen.

Edie hugged her mother, then Stark. “I’m glad the two of you never change.”

“It’s how we express our love.” Stark looked at Owen. “You’re still around, good for you.”

Owen chuckled. “Thanks.”

Amanda reached over and squeezed his arm. “I have a short list of people I hug. But it’s good to see you, we’re glad you could come.”

“I have always wanted to attend a giant family party,” he said sincerely.

She blinked at him, then smiled gently. “Well, you’ve found the right person.”

“I’ve noticed that, yeah.” He put an arm around Edie’s shoulders.

She grinned, as did her mother. “Have you had any food yet?” Amanda said. “The soldiers are on burger duty.”

“She doesn’t care about their lungs,” Stark said dryly, which made Owen laugh.

“Yes,” he added. “Burgers would be great.”

They headed over to the grill, where her father and Rogers both gave her one armed hugs and greeted him, before sending them off with fully loaded burgers. There were a handful of picnic tables set up and they found a seat with their food.

“This is all my best memories of growing up here,” she said. “Everyone chilling on the lawn with the grill going.”

“It’s very stereotypical,” Owen replied. “And I mean that in the best of ways.”

“I understand what you mean. When I claim my life is normal this is that part I mean.”

“It’s nice,” he said. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly.

He reached across the table to put his hand over hers. “I’m happy to come to all your family parties.”

“Good.” She paused a moment, then stood and walked around the table to hug him pressing her face into the curve of his throat. “I love you.”

He sighed and bent his head down to her ear. “I love you, too. Though I admit this is not where I expected to say it.”

She chuckled. “When we get home I’ll tell you how my parents first said it. This is downright romantic.”

“It’s just that we’re sleeping in your childhood bedroom tonight. . .”

“Anticipation can be fun,” she teased.

He chuckled, and kissed her shoulder. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Do you want to head back to the city? Mom’ll understand.”

“Oh, no way. This is part of the experience. Will there be a cat to climb on my head, too?”

“Probably. Mom and Dad have a special needs pet problem.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting a shop cat. We’ve always had one and I’ve missed it.”

“I love cats. I want one, but I’m never home.”

“Ours died not long before we met. I didn’t mention it because my tragic backstory was already sounding melodramatic enough as it was.”

She gave his back a pat. “My parents are big donors at a rescue in the city. I’m sure they’ll be happy to give their daughter and her responsible boyfriend a tour of their cats.”

There was a moment of silence, then he said, “Did we just decide to get a cat?”

Edie frowned, then cracked up laughing. “Yes?”

“We’ll share. I’ll bring it over to the restaurant to patrol for rats once in a while.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s against a health code or three. But I’m sure I’ll be visiting it frequently.”

She probably spent more nights at his place than she did at hers these days. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to move in with him. But perhaps telling her he loved her was enough for one day.

The rest of the party went as expected. Stories were told, in jokes were had. There was an enormous cake for the Banners. Then everyone started to trickle off to their cars or houses to settle in.

She had not been kidding about the room being painted bordello red.

“This is amazing,” he said, turning around to look at it. “I can’t imagine how many coats it took.”

“I was thirteen,” she said in explanation. “And I think it was like five or six. There was a second trip to the store.”

“No wonder they haven’t painted over it.” He flopped onto the bed. 

“Dad says there’s not enough primer in the world.” She climbed onto the bed with him, straddling his hips. “And it’s useful for teasing me.”

“You look pretty hot with the bordello behind you,” he told her.

“I look pretty hot all the time,” she informed him, leaning down to kiss him.

He wrapped his arms around her. “What happened to anticipation?”

“I’m just kissing you.” She nuzzled his jaw. “Anything more costs extra.”

“I would give you everything I owned if you asked.”

She nipped him. “You’re lucky I wouldn’t ask, then.”

He laughed. “Well, what would you want with my stuff when you have this awesome room?”

“Exactly! I can’t even get your awesome bed in here.”

“I love you,” he said. “I really do.”

She smiled and it softened her face. “I love you, too.”

“Now let’s go back downstairs before we get ourselves in trouble.”

*

A week later Edie found herself at her parent’s favorite pet rescue, convincing Owen he absolutely needed a shop cat with one eye and burn scars. Patches was a big hit back at the shop and the Old Man Gang immediately started bickering over whose turn it was to have her in their lap.

The rest of the spring and summer marched on. She spent a lot of night’s at Owen’s place. He spent a few at hers. They spent very few apart.

“Do you have a slow season?” he asked her one night.

“Historically, late summer to early fall. Locals go down the shore or to the Catskills and tourist season drops.”

“We should take a vacation.”

She grinned. “I haven’t had a vacation in ages. Have anywhere in mind?”

“My preference is for somewhere with a beach, though somewhere to sightsee would also be fun. Depending on how big of a vacation we want.”

“My extended family has houses on-“ She paused to count. “Five different beaches? Hawaii, LA, two on the Mediterranean and one on the Jersey Shore.”

“I am stunned Tony Stark does not have an ostentatious mansion on the Hamptons. Not complaining, I hate the Hamptons.”

“If I had to guess his dad probably had a place there and Tony Stark’s dad issues would sink a boat. The one on the shore is actually Uncle Steve’s.”

“We could go on a vacation all our own, you know.”

“You mean not milk off the riches of my family?” She put her hands to her face in mock horror. “Is that even done?”

“You’ve always been a rebel.”

“It’s true.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “If you’re okay with tangental relation, I hear good things about the Outer Banks.”

“I will look into it.”

“I look forward to your findings.”

He texted her three days later. _So. The beach is expensive. Can we revisit the family vacation house pool?_

She sent out a message to the various adults and got back to him. _We have our choice, though we probably need to arrange our own travel, which means the Rogers’ shore house might be the best idea._

_That sounds great to me_

_I’ll talk to Uncle Steve and let you know dates._

They were both small business owners. Vacations were inherently more expensive than employees who had PTO. The scheduled their beach trip for Monday toThursday so they wouldn’t miss the busy weekends.

On the bright side, it meant little to no traffic on the way down to the shore. The Rogers' home - which she had spent a handful of summers in high school and college - was right near the beach. It was modern construction, but build in the style of the older, victorian homes. It had half a dozen bedrooms and she knew the boys, at least, usually brought friends here at least once a summer. Edie had never borrowed it alone before. It was a lot of house for two people, but the privacy was really nice.

They spent a lot of time in the ocean, and a lot of time on the big front porch. “Yeah. This was a good idea.”

They were curled up on the porch swing, watching the waves. Edie tucked up her legs and leaned on him. “It was,” she agreed. “I don’t remember the last time I actually let myself unwind.”

“Probably as long as me. We should try keeping each other in line.”

“Maybe if we nag each other to relax it will force us to relax.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve heard crazier theories.”

She sighed softly. “I’m not looking forward to going home.”

“Mmm, don’t think about that yet. We’re not done.”

“Oh, do you have more in store for me?”

“I do. Stay right here.” He kissed her again, and then got up to go back in the house.

Well that was. . . unexpected. She watched him go in, the looked back at the water, sticking a foot out to push against the porch rail and start rocking.

He was back a moment later, and caught the swing so he could sit back on it next to her. He took a breath and blew it out. “Hey. So. The last time I did this, I knew it wouldn’t last more than a few years. This time I would really like it to last the rest of my life.”

Edie stared at him a moment. “Oh, holy shit.”

He opened his hand, and there was the ring. “I adore you. Will you marry me?”

Covering her mouth with a hand, she nodded. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

He grinned, and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her into his lap. Edie threw her arms around him, laughing and kissing all over his face. Owen laughed. “Give me your hand so I can put the ring on.”

She held her hand out and he slid the ring on her finger, where it gleamed in the twilight. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It. . . consumed my vacation fund. That’s why we’re here. But I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“No. Not at all. This is perfect.”

“I asked your father for his blessing,” he said. “I figured he might be old fashioned like that.”

“Yeah, I could see him enjoying that.”

“He said I had his blessing but that you were an adult and it was up to you.”

“That is very dad.” She leaned on his shoulder, admiring her ring.

“And he told me, just as a fair warning, that our options for a wedding were elopement or a three-ring circus. There would be no in between.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was going to tell you, too.” She looked up at him. “Which do you lean for?”

He brushed her hair off her face. “Will you be upset if I say the circus?”

She laughed. “No. A little surprised, maybe.”

“My first one was a tiny, slapped together thing between chemo treatments.”

“Well, ours can be as epic as you want. I’ll talk to Darcy about it.”

He pulled her closer. “I love you.”

“I love you back. Enough to throw a circus of a wedding to prove it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after with their cranky cat.
> 
> Nat never forgives her for that damn goat.


End file.
